


Opportunity For Love

by MisMot



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisMot/pseuds/MisMot
Summary: It would take some work but perhaps one day High Garden would truly feel like home to her.





	Opportunity For Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tywinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/gifts), [SecondStarOnTheLeft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/gifts).



The snow fell around her in gentle clumps, soft as a dove and comforting as Sansa watch it cover the gardens around her. It reminded her of the soft summer snows of her girlhood, being chased by her sister, and her brothers all so carefree. If she closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky, she could almost fool herself into believing that she was that girl again, innocent and surrounded by her loving family.

She had a new family now, Sansa reminded herself. Dozens of cousins she had to memorize and good-sisters who adored her endlessly. Of course, there was also Willas, her loving husband, gentle and kind. He wasn’t a knight like his brothers but he had whisked her away from the Queen Regent and King’s Landing nonetheless. As far as she cared, he was everything good about a knight.

It had been nearly a year since they were wed, a quiet affair with a septon before a feast so lavish that it put any of the ones she had been to at King’s Landing to shame. They had rushed through it, ever conscious of the Lannister’s ability to ruin things for her. Sansa had held hopes that she would at least have a friend with her on her wedding day but Margaery had pressed a soft kiss to her brow and told her that she was surrounded by people who loved her.

Maybe one day she will stop comparing her new home to memories of Winterfell. Perhaps when she was a true lady and more than just the simple girl that so many around her made her feel. Maybe… Maybe even after she gave Willas an heir, an heir that never truly knew the cold of winter, only the endless gardens of their father’s home. Sansa wished that she could ask her lady mother if she had ever started to truly think of Winterfell as home or if she always longed for Riverrun.

A year should have been enough time to feel at home and more than enough time to produce an heir, she was sure of it. Her own lady mother had never had any issue carrying a child, but what if she took after her aunt or even her grandmother? Would Willas cast her aside if she couldn’t give him an heir soon? What if he took someone else to bed and they gave him a baseborn child?

“Lady Sansa?” Willas called out for her, pulling her from her mounting panic.

“My Lord,” she forced herself to smile as she turned to face her lord husband. He and Ser Garlan were both bundled in thick cloaks as they approached her, both looking far more chilled than she felt. “Were you searching for me for long? You look frozen!” She knew that Willas’ leg pained him more than usual when the weather took a turn for the worst, be it rain or snow.

“Lady Sansa,” Garlan laughed, clapping his elder brother on the shoulder as he spoke, “you’ve been out in the cold for far longer than we have! We were worried you’d been frozen in place.”

“My dear Sansa, I know that this is nothing compared to The North but a fever can sneak up out of nowhere. We would hate to lose you to a thing like a sickness.” Sansa tried to believe his words but she couldn’t help but think they wouldn’t want to lose her claim rather than her. She knew that she should try harder to trust her new family but her time with the Queen Regent had poisoned her to the kindness of others.

“Of course, my lord,” she agreed, allowing Willas to wrap one of her hands around his arm as they made their way back towards the castle. She would just have to make do with watching the snow fall from her solar, warmed from a fire instead of the hot water that ran through the walls of Winterfell that she so desperately longed for.

“I think I would like to see The North sometime,” Willas mused beside her, glancing at his brother over her head, “to see the Barrowlands, Wolfswood, and everything else from the stories.”

“You could sail up to White Harbor,” Ser Garlan pointed out with a soft smile on his face. “Of course, you would miss the lizard-lions of The Neck by doing that.”

“Would you prefer going up the kingsroad, my lady?” Sansa blinked and looked up at Willas, trying to see the trap in his words. “After the war is over, of course.”

“Whichever you think is best,” she finally allowed herself to say, trying not to allow her hopes to raise too much. “I am sure Lord Manderly would be honored to receive you in White Harbor, should you choose to go by sea.” They entered through the kitchens, Sansa’s senses immediately overwhelmed with the smells of freshly baked loaves of bread, whatever wonderful things they would be served for dinner, and the tang of lemons. There always seemed to be lemons in Highgarden, no matter how cold it got outside. Ser Garlan parted ways with them as soon as they entered the kitchens, an apology on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

“My dear Sansa,” Willas murmured as he lead them towards her rooms. “I must admit, I am more curious to see the region you love so dearly the way that you remember it best. What better way is there to see a new land than from the eyes of someone who longs to be there again?” She frowned at his words, still trying to figure them out for the lies that they surely were. Did he just want to see the castle that their second son would hold, should the war turn badly enough? That must be it.

“My lord,” she lost herself in her thoughts quickly into her sentence, too torn on what curtsies she could ply him with. As if sensing the root of her hesitation, Willas stopped them in an empty hallway, turning to face her and lifting the arm she held towards her face.

“Sansa,” he sighed, pressing his brow against hers, “I cannot swear to you enough that this isn’t some trick, some ploy to get you to admit something. I want to know you, to know you more than I already do. Even should your brothers still hold Winterfell, I am curious to see the wonders your ancestors, my children’s ancestors, built.”

“But why?” Sansa just couldn’t stop herself from blurting the words, surprising herself with how childish she sounded. She immediately felt her cheeks flush and tried to look away from him, but he gently held her chin in his grasp with a soft, gentle smile.

“You are my wife, Sansa. I should like the opportunity to truly fall in love with you if given the chance.” His honeyed eyes searched her face, taking in her frantic eyes and reddened cheeks. “If you’ll allow me the honor, of course.” It was the sort of thing she was sure was only said in songs, something that only the most valiant of knights said to their lady lovers in the morning before they went off to fight some battle. From the look in his eyes, she believed that he was telling her the truth and faced with the real thing, she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t remember what the ladies in all of her stories always responded with, how she’d told herself she would have responded to Joffrey, had he been kind and not an absolute monster. “Sansa? What do you say?”

“Yes,” the words tumbled from her lips and she found that she wouldn’t want to take them back for anything. Willas smiled at her like the sun appearing from behind clouds and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips. She felt butterflies flutter in her stomach and a fresh wave of heat crest across her face. “Lord Willas, shouldn’t we…?” Her lord husband had visited her chambers in the night before, usually at least once in a fortnight in an effort to conceive an heir but this… This just seemed crass to be intimate where anyone could happen upon them, but Sansa didn’t find herself minding as much as she thought she should.

“Of course,” he agreed, sounding strained as he pulled away from her. Perhaps he’d hurt his leg by standing on it for so long? “Were it up to me, I would spend every one of my nights with you by my side.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her gloved hands, her mind racing through her memories to try to see if Old Nan had told her anything, some whispered secret on how to make sure she could get with child. “I’ll try harder.”

“Try harder? My lady, that isn’t what I was trying to say. I’m sorry to upset you. I only meant that you bring me comfort, that’s all. You’re still young. These things can be known to take time.” Willas offered her his arm again, gently patting her hand as it rested against his forearm. “Besides, for all we know, I could be the problem.”

“My lord?”

“Oh, it happens sometimes. Try a mare with a stallion a dozen times with no results and the moment you try a new stallion, the seed finally takes.” It was odd to hear her lord husband speak so casually about something that could be crass but she listened intently. Sansa remembered all the tales she’d heard of him before she ever met him, about how gifted he was with dogs, hawks, and horses alike. If anyone knew, it would be Willas.

“What if you’re right?” Oh, she could have kicked herself for speaking up so quickly! Sansa looked down at where her soft, leather boots appeared from under the hem of her dress with every step she took, just waiting for him to strike her out of anger as Joffrey would have.

“I have put some thought to that...” he sighed, his cane clicking against the stone floor rhythmically. “We shall figure something out should we get to that, my lady.” No matter what Willas said, she knew that she would be the one blamed for their lack of an heir, were it the case. She would have to pray even harder to The Mother to get with child. If there were any weirwood trees this far south, she would even pray to the Old Gods for a child. She would be ever so happy with a daughter, so long as she was able to get with child. Yes, a little girl named Edda. “Lady Sansa?”

“My lord?” Sansa looked up at him with another forced smile, regretting that she had gotten so far lost in her thoughts that he needed to call to her so often just to grab her attention. “I’m sorry, I was thinking of...” Dare she say it and risk upsetting him? Willas had never seemed to get angry with her in the past, even when she was little more than a foolish girl. “I was imagining a daughter with your curls and my coloring.”

“It sounds as though she would be a rival of her aunt’s beauty,” Willas smiled down at her, leading her down a new hallway. He was leading her to Lady Olenna’s rooms, it seemed. “She would have to be as brave as her lady mother, of course.”

“You think I’m brave?”

“Clever, too. How else could you have survived people who wanted nothing more than to do you harm and yet remain so gentle and kind, Lady Sansa? Do you not think yourself brave?”

“Bravery is a thing of heroes.” He gave her an amused look and she was quick to look away, ashamed at her own words. She ought to get better at holding her tongue around her lord husband.

“Sansa, I know that our children will think you just as brave as I do. I don’t know that I would have been able to survive such a thing for half as long as you did.” She didn’t know if she quite believed his words or not but Willas certainly seemed earnest enough when he said them. Still, it warmed her to hear him say them. Sansa didn’t feel particularly brave most of the time. “You are as much of a wolf as the rest of your house, my lady. I am not among those who have forgotten that.” All she could do was nod, allowing herself to feel emboldened by his words.

“Willas?” She finally found the courage to speak up. “Do you think we could spend time together? Perhaps have lunch in my solar or...”

“Is that what you’d like to do, Sansa?” Her husband asked as he once again stopped them, facing her with a smile on his face. “I would love to spend the time with you if you’d have me.” When she nodded softly, he changed their pace, guiding her lightly towards her own rooms in a path she had walked a thousand times. The walk seemed to last a hundred years, her heart seeming to thunder away in her chest the closer they got to her rooms. It wasn’t as if he had never seen her rooms before and she wasn’t exactly a blushing maid anymore, but this felt different, perhaps even more important. Sansa was letting him into her life, making a step towards letting him into her heart.

As they passed a serving girl, Willas motioned for her to bring them something to snack on while they basked in the heat of her solar. With a quirk of his lips, he made a point to ask for lemon cakes and the rather bland and dark tea he seemed to favor. Sansa watched his kindness as he spoke to someone so beneath his station and tried to picture him holding their children, gently guiding them through their studies instead of letting a maester handle it all the way she knew some lords allowed for. Briefly, she wondered if he wanted to visit her bed in the night again, despite the fact that it had only been a few days since his last visit.

“Willas,” she looked up at him, wrapping her other hand around his arm to try to steel her nerves. “Would you like to join me tonight as well?”

“If that is an invitation, I gladly accept, my lady love.” She felt as if her heart could burst at his words, quickly looking away from him to see how close they were getting to her rooms. “In the morning, we could both light candles to the Maiden and Mother both, if you’d like.”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” she grinned up at him, knowing that with both of them praying, she was sure to get with child sooner rather than later. Sansa had a feeling that she would give Willas an heir before she knew it and the sooner she did, she knew she would get to see Winterfell once more.

**Author's Note:**

> SecondStarOnTheLeft, Merry Christmas! Tywinning loves you enough to convince me to faceplant riiiiight into the ASOIAF fandom just for you~


End file.
